


Evening Indulgence

by clicktrack_heart



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Felching, M/M, Object Insertion, Rimming, Season/Series 01, Smut, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicktrack_heart/pseuds/clicktrack_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feast is life and Hannibal finds a way to feast on Will without eating him. (This is kinky stuff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [daylight savings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251749) by [thebeespatella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeespatella/pseuds/thebeespatella). 



> This is a fic of a fic, though you don’t really need to read [Celli_inkblots](http://archiveofourown.org/users/celli_inkblots/pseuds/celli_inkblots) [Daylight Savings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6251749) (but you really, really should and why wouldn’t you if you like to read about these middle-aged men fucking as much as I do). Basically just understand that this is a S1-era fic where Will and Hannibal have been fucking like bunnies since Tobias Budge was bludgeoned.

Will arrived from Wolf Trap just as Hannibal was finishing dinner. The fine hairs at the nape of his neck rose almost instantly as cold wind seeped into his home from the outside-- a sign that the front door was being held open too long.

Deftly, Hannibal plucked the dish of roasted meat he had prepared, and curated, from the oven to the cooling rack. He left his large oven mitt on the counter as he went to greet Will.

Will was in the foyer, bent over his shoes and muttering curses. Hannibal smiled.

"Something the matter?" he asked. His leg brushed Will's bent knee as he shut the door behind them, sealing in the warmth once more.

Will glanced up through dampened curls with a scowl. "Just annoyed with myself that I didn't wear my hiking boots to the crime Jack had me at today. Ruined my shoes."

Hannibal looked and barely managed to not wrinkle his nose. The old shoes Will wore were hardly wearable weeks ago, and so if anything, Jack had done him a favor. Still, Will's sneakers were now torn, pinkened with watery blood and speckled black with mud. The soles were mere inches from Hannibal's one-of-a-kind oriental rug.

"Leave them," he offered. "I will loan you a pair."

“OK,” Will returned, the quick dart of his eyes alone showing his hesitation at wearing Hannibal’s possessions. His shyness was savored, fleeting and dulcet, considering the way they had given into each other after Tobias Budge only two months ago.

"Your socks will do for now. Dinner is almost ready," Hannibal said, and Will rose, following him to the kitchen with a pleased grin.

"Ah, I confess I’ve missed your cooking, Doctor."

"I am happy to provide dinner for you any night I can pry you from Jack," Hannibal said.

Will laughed, a pleasant rumble of sound that, while not musical, was immensely pleasant to Hannibal. He was in a good humor himself, dinner was nearly ready and he was already thinking of the shoes he would buy Will-- Stefano Bemer or New & Lingwood, as soon as Will would allow it of course.

Hannibal considered his options as he plated their food, arranging quartered figs on the scalloped edges of porcelain. One day soon, Will's closet in Wolf Trap, and yes, even in Hannibal's home, would be filled with custom made shirts and slacks, in tones and styles that matched Will's eyes and lean build.

Tonight, however, Hannibal had a more sentimental gift in mind. One he was sure Will would not refuse.

Will was seated in the dining room and he leaned back for Hannibal to place the plate before him.

"What are we eating?" he asked.

A banker who ran over a dog last week without stopping, Hannibal didn't say, though he wondered, as he had often begun to, whether Will might appreciate the poetic justice of it, for just a few minutes, before calling Jack.

He grew more and more tempted to share his art with Will, and not through the cloak of subterfuge as he currently did.

"Tonight, I have made an herb crusted pork roast with ginger-fig compote."

Will cut a bite and lifted it to his lips. He chewed slowly, in clear enjoyment.

Still smiling to himself, Hannibal began to cut his meat. The banker had roasted well, the meat was piquant and tender under Hannibal’s preparations.

“This is very good,” Will said, still chewing.

Hannibal nodded, bemused by his satisfaction. Will’s recognition tended towards simple, but always heart felt. 

“I can only to venture to guess about the state of your meals while traveling. But your destination, I am sure you could find adequate seafood on the Eastern Shore at least. How did you find Chincoteague?”

“Marshy,” Will answered. His throat worked enticingly as he swallowed. “Entirely squishy underfoot. Lots of dune grasses and migrating birds. But the air always smelled clean. No matter what state of decomp the bodies were in by the time our crew got there. I guess it helped clear my mind. The change of scenery. Helped me to see the killer.”

Will's eyes grew hazy. He spoke as if he had left Hannibal’s table and floated somewhere else entirely. Hannibal felt oddly jealous, of a lesser killer no less, and he swallowed thickly, cutting himself a small bite of meat as a distraction.

“I think you would have liked it there though,” Will continued. “It was strangely peaceful even on site, considering the circumstances.”

“How many were there this time?”

"How many--" Will blinked. “Oh. Oh um. Yes, the bodies. I think eight. Autopsies are still… ongoing.”

“I see,” Hannibal said. He studied the contents of the table he himself had set and made a small sound of surprise.  He lifted an empty wine glass up in faux dismay. “Oh, you must forgive me. I already drank some wine earlier today and forgot to fill our glasses.”

“It's fine,” Will said. He reached across the table and laid his hand on Hannibal’s. “Not every night has to be an orchestrated performance.”

“But there was something I had planned to pair with our meal,” Hannibal said. “Please, excuse me.”

He went to his kitchen for what he had “forgot” and returned to the dining room a moment later, the two bottles he had chosen for this evening weeks ago in each of his hands.

“Two?” Will asked, his brows arching. His smile was languid. “We're um, double fisting it?”

Hannibal smirked in return. “Now, that would be an orchestrated performance.”

“Ha ha. Well, if that's what you had planned, you’re going to have to call a taxi to get me home in one piece,” Will warned.

“I like your pieces entirely as they are,” Hannibal replied, surprising himself with his sincerity. “Stay the night then. You walked your dogs after you landed at Dulles, did you not?”

Will chewed his lower lip rather appealingly. “I’d still have to leave early in the morning.”

“I’ll make you coffee first thing,” Hannibal offered. “It would be my pleasure.”

Will mulled this over, cheeks warmed by the thinly veiled insinuation. He still wasn’t sure where they stood it seemed. Hannibal had already settled himself rather comfortably into the pace of their relationship, filling Will’s frequent BAU-sanctioned absences with his own amusements and artistic pursuits. Still, he had his expectations of course, and Will constantly surpassed them.  

Now Will glanced more seriously at the bottles Hannibal held. “What have you brought us?” He was already focusing on the older bottle clutched in Hannibal’s left hand.

“We shall drink this one for dinner, it will pair well with the roasted pork,” Hannibal said, lifting the newer bottle of pinot noir from a Charlottesville, Virginia winery, Monticello. 

He told Will about the wine, as he set the older bottle apart from their placements on the table. Once the Charlottesville wine was uncorked for their meal, he poured both Will and himself full glasses. 

He would keep the mystery of the older bottle for now.

“The second bottle is for after the conclusion of our meal,” Hannibal said. He raised his glass. “I believe ‘bottoms up’ is the correct expression?” 

Will snorted.

“I guess I opened the door on that,” Will said, giving Hannibal a look. He pressed the glass to his lips in a kiss, to scent the liquid more properly. He took a long sip of the blood-red liquid before he spoke.

“I’d say it’s appropriate enough, Doctor.” 

~*~*~*~*~*

They retired to Hannibal’s bedroom after dinner, the second, older bottle of wine Hannibal had brought them still purposefully untouched.

Only when the fire was glowing, filling the room with its crackling warmth, did Hannibal uncork the aged and rare vintage he had decided to share with Will.

The first bottle had already granted a certain loose quality to Will’s normally taut body. Social drinking was still not necessarily something he was accustomed to, though their dinners together were becoming more frequent. Will’s unsteadiness was slight however, less than the day-long tremors Jack’s killers could impart. Slight _tipsiness_ was nothing to be concerned with.

Hannibal wondered to himself for a moment, at the fine line that he danced over. It was… deeply unsettling at times, his affection for Will Graham. The concern he felt for Will’s health and well being, it was not beyond him, but certainly extended the more habitual range of his emotions.

Tucking his discomfort neatly away, Hannibal refilled Will's now empty glass. Will accepted it gratefully. He glanced away from the fire, fingers now sliding over Hannibal’s without reservation.

“I’m beginning to think you’re trying to get me drunk, Hannibal,” Will said. He sat on the cerulean velvet settee beneath the bed, and had just placed the decorative stripped pillow behind the small of his back.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing with one finger to the bottle of wine Hannibal held. Hannibal didn't deny him. He watched curiously as Will examined the wine, tracing his thumb gently over the letters on the faded label, all words he couldn’t translate.

“And what if I am?” Hannibal asked. “Do you object to being drunk?”

“I’d say you don’t have to try that hard to get lucky with me, or anyone else for that matter.”

Charming. Hannibal was stirred again by his nostalgia, particularly of Will’s colorful comment of the million suitors Hannibal could have, the night he killed Tobias Budge.

“Any effort I make for you Will, will always be worth it.”

“Mmm, don’t,” Will said, lowering his eyes. He took a steadying breath then another sip of his wine. “This is good. Tastes like berries growing wild in misty thickets,” he smiled to himself. “The places fairies like to roam.”

“Stories you read as a child?”

Will nodded.

"You’re not too far off,” Hannibal said. “The bottle we enjoy now is from my family's home in Lithuania. I must warn you it is old and the grapes are a common variety, nothing fancy or special to speak of as far as ingredients go."

"It’s from your home. I think it's special," Will said quietly. His gaze wandered past Hannibal and the licking flames in the fireplace, as if he saw into the lush woods of Hannibal's boyhood. "It's the most I've ever seen from your past."

"It is the last of its kind in any case," Hannibal said, then took a measured sip from his own glass. "I shared the second to last with my therapist at our appointment earlier today."

Will gave a sharp glance at that, his lower lip curling. Hannibal and Will had ran into Bedelia at Whole Foods some weeks ago and now Hannibal couldn't help but fan Will's jealousy from time to time.

"This one I saved for you. Was I wrong in hoping you would do the honor of sharing the last with me?" Hannibal continued.

"The last," Will echoed. He wrinkled his brow, his alcohol-tinged mind snaring on an errant thought that no doubt didn't belong to him. He frowned. "But, trying to get rid of your past... Are you putting off something?"

Hannibal startled at that. "Perceptive," he granted. "We all struggle from time to time. But I am in control of my emotions. Just a little spring cleaning is all."

Will smiled into his glass, then drank again. "Always the control."

Hannibal conceded the point with a nod, chasing it down with a sip of his own.

Will took a moment to savor his drink. "So your family made wine?"

Hannibal pulled Will’s legs onto his lap. “Most Lithuanian families do.”

He began to massage Will’s calves through the denim of his jeans-- only a small fraction of the sore, weary muscles Will possessed. He set about digging his fingers into the lean sinews and fascia, woven dense as a spider’s web. Will moaned, already malleable to Hannibal’s touch. His head fell back.

"My family had servants to tend the vineyards beyond our estate. Occasionally my father drank too much and demanded the grapes be brought in to the house for him to stomp on."

Will grinned at that. "And was he indulged?"

Hannibal ran his fingers possessively down Will’s tibia bone. "Oh, yes. In almost all things."

"Hmm, makes me wonder,” Will mused. He settled deeper into the settee. “What are your indulgences? Besides all of this.” He gestured blandly to Hannibal's furnishings, but when it came to the half empty bottle of Hannibal’s family vintage, he held it up as if to examine it again. “And the food and wine."

Hannibal cocked his head to the side, fingers stilled on Will’s Achilles tendons.

"I would like to fuck you with that wine bottle."

Will gaped. He nearly dropped the bottle Hannibal referred to. Color blossomed like roses on his cheekbones. "I-I um. You. Oh, it's just that I've never heard you say..."  
Hannibal released Will’s legs with a squeeze, and he leaned forward to support Will's hands on the bottle.

“Crass language such as that, yes,” he said. He looked at Will’s eyes, catching them for a beat before Will looked away.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said-” He felt Will’s hands jerk in his.

“No. No.” Will laughed nervously, and his eyes darted directionless from the fireplace to the wall before pausing on Hannibal’s face, gauging his seriousness. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time I’ve used something _there_ for pleasure. I’ve just never um, used a wine bottle.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.” _Much_. He licked his lips at the thought.

Will tracked the motion, eyes widening.

“I trust you,” he said but his voice trailed, a questioning note surfacing without intention. The alcohol had lowered Will’s inhibitions as well as the flimsy barriers in his mind.

“Lovely,” Hannibal returned. He smiled. “You won’t regret it.”

He leaned forward the last few inches, kissing Will with an urgency he hadn’t anticipated. Their mouths pressed hot together, need bleeding to need. Then Will dipped his head, lips suckling on Hannibal’s throat with just as much fervor.

It wasn’t long before he had Will trapped beneath him, and they were thrusting against each other roughly; lavishing bracing kisses that would leave them both bruised.

He had meant to tease this occasion out longer but Will had a way of expediting progress. He undressed beneath Hannibal as they kissed, pressing the hard length of his cock into Hannibal’s hip, showing him rather wantonly just how much he was missed in Chincoteague. He pulled off Hannibal’s shirt, a wounded, bewildered sound falling from his lips.

“Oh, God. I think- I want it,” Will moaned. His tongue licked and pressed under the points of Hannibal’s teeth. “What you said. Ah- about the bottle. Please.”

Hannibal had to wonder if what Will felt was merely a ripple of his own desire, a tumbling free fall of want echoing within his battered mind. It didn’t stop Hannibal from tugging Will’s pants down hard, with much more force than required. He made short work of the cheap material Will donned as a shirt as well, pulling it away and throwing it unceremoniously to the floor.

Naked, Will was a feast for his eyes. He traced the skin he revealed, inch by inch, as if he owned it. It was criminal the way Will dressed really, but Hannibal saw merit it in it, that it would make it easier to keep Will unnoticed by others. He was stunning, with pale, smooth skin that Hannibal had to taste for himself every time, and toned, yet lithe muscles that flexed in the most satisfying ways when strained and tested by Hannibal's weight.

Will was not fully drunk, not yet, but flushed with wine and arousal, lips parting as he allowed himself to enjoy Hannibal’s gaze.

That deserved a reward.

“Mmm,” Will murmured, so light against the crown of Hannibal’s head, when he bent, sucking each of his nipples. They firmed beneath his lips, succulent and sensitive. He didn’t linger though, not wanting to give too much too soon.

“Move up,” he suggested, pulling his mouth away when Will’s breath quickened. He pulled down the blue coverlet  as Will obeyed, clambering up the fresh linens. Will turned over once he was almost centered in the bed, framed in the ivory sheets. He looked coyly over his shoulder, hazy blue eyes mostly alert. A Ganymede fitted for Zeus.

Hannibal kept their gazes locked as he spread Will open-- until his fingers slid over the little crease of his hole. He pressed his fingers against the pucker of flesh, marveling at its tightness, its natural dark smoothness. He loved to explore Will here, with his fingers and tongue, leaving Will clenching and spit slick, turning the muddled funnels of his brain to a roaring inferno.

This time he licked the ring of muscle with a deep sigh, using his mouth as though he was kissing Will. When his tongue nudged past the rim, Will’s thighs quivered uncontrollably beneath his palms. He fell forward on the bed then, practically collapsed other than his raised bottom, the blades of his forearms pressing into the mattress.

Hannibal admired the sight of his lover undone before sucking two of his fingers into his mouth. He eased one, then the other into Will, still licking him open. He pushed his tongue in and out, making sure Will was dripping and ready. Will moaned, a helpless quality in it that curled around Hannibal’s cochleae like a soaring aria. Only when Will had gone hoarse, his hole wet enough for his purpose, did Hannibal slow.

He found the glass bottle on the night stand.

“There’s still wine in there,” Will said  thickly, concern lifting his head from Hannibal's goose down pillow.

“Just a small amount,” Hannibal replied. “The effects will be mild.”

“Oh- but. Hanni-”

“Shhh.”

He nudged the lip of the wine bottle to Will's hole. The glass slowly opened the small muscle, easing in carefully. The transparent funnel of the bottle’s swan neck showed him Will’s smooth, mauve insides with every little nudge. Hannibal was breathless with the sight, the beauty of it.

He stroked one hand absentmindedly down Will’s arching spine.

“Just a little more,” he cooed.

Will bit his lip, cheeks flushing. Lovingly, Hannibal pushed the bottle further inside him, inch by inch, until his hole was fully stretched around the widened stem of the bottle. Will shuddered with a loud groan, burying his face in his arm as he realized what Hannibal was going to do-- that he was just beginning.

Hannibal tilted the bottle up by its broad base, ever so gently. The alcohol sloshed forward, gravity flowing it down the neck and into Will’s body.

“Ohh, it um, tingles,” Will moaned.

“That’s your body absorbing the alcohol. Ah, it’s very greedy Will.”

Will’s hands twisted in the sheets, his knees widening every so slightly to take more. “Tell me what’s happening. Please.”

Hannibal stroked his back again, soothingly.

“The alcohol is mostly gone now. It’s bypassing your stomach, flowing directly into your bloodstream,” Hannibal said. His words felt clumsy-- honeyed, slow and thick. Will possessed him even now. “Most of the alcohol will absorb into you as you lay, it all happens very quickly.”

“Oh,” Will said, blinking. Hannibal watched the minute movements, the way Will teased himself on the neck of the bottle, rising up and down it almost unconsciously, testing it.

“How do you feel now?”

“Oh. God. Warm,” he muttered. “You’re burning me up.”

Hannibal smiled. Indeed the supple muscles of Will’s back and shoulders glistened with sweat. Signs of a fever from his encephalitis, though his cock was hard, jutting low between his legs. The pearl of pre-seminal fluid that had gathered at the tip had rolled down his shaft, nearly to the base. Hannibal glanced back up to check the bottle and the flow of its contents. The wine from his family’s home was gone now, consumed by Will. 

Hannibal expelled his breath. “I am going to fuck you now.”

He didn’t wait for Will’s response, though he seemed to sag with relief, or perhaps... surrender under Hannibal’s hands. Hannibal smoothly pulled the neck of the wine bottle from Will, placing the glass back on the nightstand.

In one deep stroke, the swollen head of his cock quickly replaced the bottle, pushing and stretching Will until he was fully inside. Will’s back arched from the jarring difference in size, but before he could wiggle away or express discomfort, Hannibal pressed him forward, holding him down by one shoulder so his chest was tight against the bed. He didn’t stop.

He fucked Will like this, shockingly close to losing his own control already. Nearer still, as a few droplets of red liquid seeped out from Will’s hole and down the place of their joining. He bared his teeth as the remnants of wine ran in rivulets down Will’s scrotum, sliding slick over Hannibal’s half-buried cock.

“Hannibal,” Will gasped. “Please, I can’t- your sheets.” 

“I will buy more,” Hannibal murmured, his thrusts turning rough. The alcohol would have fully absorbed into Will now, the speckles of liquid staining the bed below them would be essentially grape juice. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Please,” was all Will managed to say, even as Hannibal snaked his hand down to begin stroking his cock. The edge came perilously close at the groan Will gave from his touch, pre-ejaculate dripping sticky between his fingers.

Hannibal changed his angle so that he hit Will’s smooth prostate each time he pressed in. Will’s heat engulfed him.

“Come for me,” Hannibal demanded.

Will took over, fucking himself, and Hannibal responded with a guttural noise, a squeeze to his cock. 

Will shouted then, cock trickling in Hannibal’s hand with several hot spurts. Hannibal held his hips tight through it, riding the shudders and quakes with the release of his own pleasure. The head of his cock pressed deep into the curve of Will's insides-- where he was meant to be.

They collapsed together, limbs tangled. 

Hannibal stroked Will's curls as his breathing slowed. He separated gently, careful not to cause Will pain. Familiar urges filtered through the palace of his mind, a glorious kaleidoscopic carousel. He saw himself victorious in each iteration -- in one he bit low on Will's throat, tearing skin as Will came in time with the arc of his own blood. In another, he found the small knife in the nightstand and sliced both of Will’s Achilles smoothly, needing only one flick of his wrist. Then, an image came of Will, hands tight around Hannibal's throat as he choked him with his sweet cock.

The vibrant visions made him smile just as much as the present reality, the trust in Will’s eyes, the utter abandonment of cogent thought as he laid limp in Hannibal’s arms, reminiscent of Christ in Michaelangelo's Pieta.

Hannibal settled for kissing down Will’s prone form, across the dips and planes of his damp back to the swell of his ass. His hole was still open, still leaking nearly translucent semen, save for the taint of the blood-colored wine. Both their come and the wine had splattered across the sheets. White and red.

In his mind’s eye, Hannibal imagined the colors twirling together, two serpents consuming each other, forever entwining.

He pressed his mouth against the tender rim of Will's hole, cleaning the mess that was made. Will came to life sluggishly, fighting against Hannibal’s weight.

“Ha- no, don’t,” he panicked. “Stop.”

Hannibal merely sucked harder, palming Will’s cheek roughly to hold him open. A rush of flavors teased him-- the bitter salt of his own semen he swallowed first, then a hint of grapes slipped like velvet over his tongue. Under that was Will’s unique taste, marbling the other flavors with something sweet and feverish, dark like the earth but lighter than summer rain. Hannibal licked it all, pressing deep with his tongue until Will was clean again, muffled sounds of protest quieting to exhaustion and then finally to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Send me stuff at [EmCWrites on Tumblr](http://em-c-writes.tumblr.com/).


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